A contemporary newspaper account describes this housewarming as being of ‘a style of extraordinary magnificence and taste’, attended, among others, by HRH The Duke of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Wellington, Prince and Princess Lieven and Emily, Lady Castlereagh; these were the friends and relatives of Frances’ parents and it was on a similar base that she built her social life at Blenheim. The account continues:
Every apartment was illuminated with girandoles or sidelights, except the first which contained an ormulu chandelier of great dimensions. All the interior was illuminated with wax candles. At eleven o’clock the company began to arrive; the dancing commenced half-an-hour after with quadrilles and ended with waltzes. A regular supper was set out in the banqueting hall at two o’clock. Covers were laid for fifty and the tables were replenished six times; on the whole three hundred supped, which was the extent of the party. The dancing was afterwards resumed and kept up till five o’clock.
This was the basis of the social confidence which characterised Frances throughout her life. All these sights and sounds would register over time in Frances’ mind, some to be recreated at Blenheim a generation later.
That same summer, in July, Frances Anne produced her second son and fourth child, Adolphus Frederick Charles William; his godparents were the two royal dukes, York and Cambridge.
In 1826 the new building at Wynyard was completed and there was another housewarming celebration which, this time and typically of Charles and Frances Anne, included their tenants and work force (demonstrating a concern for ordinary people that was to become characteristic of Frances). Again, a newspaper account described the event:
On Monday last the third inst., being the seventh anniversary of Lord and Lady Londonderry, they gave a splendid and friendly treat to their tenantry and tradesmen in the neighbourhood. As the foundation stone of the new mansion had never been laid, it was determined to commemorate the building by depositing the current coins of the realm, and an appropriate inscription, under one of the immense blocks which form the portico. At half-past five o’clock this ceremony took place; Lady Londonderry placed the stone assisted by Mr P. Wyatt, the architect, in the presence of a large concourse of gentry, workmen, tenants, etc. At the conclusion of the ceremony, and after an address from the gentlemen present, the company gave three times three cheers, his Lordship’s band playing ‘God save the King’.
At seven o’clock, a large party sat down to dinner in the new dining-room, where it is unnecessary to say that they were treated with every delicacy and every friendly attention by the noble host and hostess. At nine o’clock the tenantry began to assemble – the company left the dining-room, which was immediately fitted up for a ball. Dancing commenced about ten, and continued without intermission, except during the time of supper and occasional refreshment, until six o’clock next morning.
The house, or rather palace – for it is the most splendid mansion in the north of England – reflects infinite credit on the taste and abilities of the architect: it combines, with singular felicity, the comforts and convenience of a country gentleman, with the splendour and magnificence of a palace.
That she grew up in a family environment in which grand events such as these were taken for granted explains the easy and natural control for which Frances was renowned as Duchess at Blenheim some 30 years later. She was part of a way of life which bred ease and confidence, a confidence which in Frances was to transcend mere control of a household and family, albeit a ducal one. Years later, when her husband became Viceroy of Ireland, she found within herself the confidence to be effective in averting a national disaster.
Frances Anne followed up these celebrations four months later with the birth of Sophia Henrietta Charlotte, third daughter and fifth child, who sadly did not survive an illness, probably pneumonia, at the age of eight months. The family was now at the peak of its wealth and social status. Apart from the expense of Wynyard and the London house, Mount Stewart, seat of the Londonderrys near Belfast, had been enlarged, Seaham Hall bought and refurbished and, finally, the Seaham harbour constructed at a cost of over £118,000.
Notes
1. Letter from Frances Anne to her mother, Countess of Antrim, Verona, 26 December 1822, cited in Frances Anne by Edith Londonderry, p.114.
2. Journal of Frances Anne, p.14, cited in Ladies of Londonderry by Urquhart, p.11.
3. Letter from Charles Stewart to Emily Castlereagh, 7 June 1823, cited by Edith Londonderry, p.123.
Chapter Five
AN EVENTFUL ADOLESCENCE
* * *
Frances grew up in an environment in which the comforts of wealth and familiarity with the most powerful, rich and high ranking people in the land were normal. The household clearly lacked for nothing. Even so, there were considerable drains upon the combined income of Frances’ parents of over £80,000 per annum, the basic costs being considerable. It cost £200 per month to run Wynyard; in addition, the housekeeper was paid ten shillings a week and the housemaids seven shillings. An inventory in 1841 shows the house equipped with 68 mattresses, 136 pairs of blankets, 602 towels, 80 damask tablecloths, 463 napkins, 910 pieces of china and 600 pieces of silverware.
The long line of distinguished visitors to Wynyard included Prince Louis Napoleon, George III’s daughter the Duchess of Gloucester, his brother the Duke of Cambridge, the portrait painter Sir Thomas Lawrence, the poet and novelist Sir Walter Scott, and the statesman and reformer Sir Robert Peel. Nor was this wealth used solely for the comfort of the Londonderrys and their friends: the conditions in the Vane-Tempest collieries were better than most. Free education was provided for the children of workers and free medical treatment for the miners was provided at the local infirmary. The new pits sunk at Seaham were paying off: from 1845 onwards profits rose annually and were reflected in improved conditions.
Family life followed the recognised pattern of most nineteenth-century aristocratic households and Frances’ opinion of it is reflected in what she chose to establish at Blenheim. The triumvirate of the three eldest children was a natural consequence of their closeness by birth: Harry, the eldest son and heir, pale blonde and handsome, the darling of his mother and an acceptable leader to the two girls; Frances, a true and loyal supporter in every adventure, confidante and loving sister, the apple of her father’s eye, with Alex, or Alexandrina, a more delicate and less confident child, but nevertheless providing a different perspective equal in value to that of the others. Frances benefited from her siblings: on the one hand an older brother to add vitality and drive to the world, and on the other a younger, quieter sister, providing for Frances a balanced childhood, reflected in the stable, sensible adult she became.
Wynyard Hall, their idyllic childhood home, occupied a Park of two and a half thousand acres, the large lake providing a most pleasurable view from the main windows, an elegant, arching bridge crossing to the greater part of the Park. The children’s daily walk or ride took them across the bridge and beyond, where they could play happily and enjoy their freedom and safety without being disturbed. All too soon the grooms called them to retrace their steps and they climbed back up the hill, the serene panorama of their home a constant image before them. Back in the stable yard, they dismounted and helped lead the horses back into the stables, where they would rub them down under supervision and look after them, an important part of their upbringing. The afternoons in the early days would be taken up with Nanny and basic nursery lessons, but soon their mother would introduce them to the world outside and to the people for whom they would one day take responsibility. Typically their mother, Frances Anne, took them in the carriage to visit neighbouring villages, carrying gifts of food and clothing; farmers’ and miners’ families alike benefited from this service. As Harry left for Eton and more masculine company, Frances and Alex accompanied their mother to the wider world of newly built schools. It was a stable, sociable and busy life which taught an unforgettable lesson of service and compassion to those less fortunate than themselves.
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From her earliest years Frances was surrounded by people of influence and wealth. In 1827 the Duke of Wellington arrived at Wynyard to lay a foundation stone, which was actually an obelisk 127 feet high, standing on the high ground of the Park. He was given a tremendous welcome locally with several civic receptions and a huge roasted ox. A ball in his honour drew guests from the whole of the county, while his visits to the collieries were greeted with great warmth. Although Charles did not benefit from Wellington’s appointment as Prime Minister, a few months later his eldest son, Frederick Castlereagh, was given the junior office of a Lord of the Admiralty.
In May 1830 Frances Anne’s new baby was baptised Adelaide for the Queen, who came to Londonderry House with her husband William IV and stood sponsor to the child. In contrast to all this royal favour and aristocratic splendour was the London public’s perception of Charles’s opposition to Parliamentary reform and the Reform Bill of 1832 in particular. Riding down Whitehall to the House of Lords in 1832, he was stoned by a London mob during the riots which followed the Lords’ rejection of the Reform Bill; on another occasion the windows of Londonderry House were smashed. Charles did not suffer fools gladly and could be very tactless; he certainly made enemies among those with whom he was not personally acquainted. On the other hand, he was a man of high principles, rooted in honesty and fair dealing; in this respect his daughter Frances identified with him. Always a scrupulous land and colliery owner, as far as he was concerned there was no need for so-called reform.
On the North Sea coast, meanwhile, Charles was taking great financial risks. The previous owner of the Seaham estate, Sir Ralph Milbanke, had had plans drawn up for the building of a harbour at Seaham and Charles had long nursed the ambition to carry out this project, perceiving that it would connect Frances Anne’s collieries with the sea independently of Sunderland and its heavy port dues. His financial advisers were against it on the grounds of risk but leading engineers such as Rennie, Telford and Logan, whom he consulted, supported the project. It was an undertaking that also had strong public support and in 1828, when Charles laid the foundation stone of the north-east pier, he was supported by an immense crowd which included the Mayor and Corporation of Durham and all the principal county families, as well as Frances Anne and her three older children. Frances and her brother and sister watched their father perform his public duties, just as the young Winston Churchill, Frances’ grandson, was to do half a century later in Ireland when his grandfather, the 7th Duke, carried out his responsibilities as Viceroy. Both occasions had a profound effect on the young spectators.
The chief agent and colliery manager, Mr Buddle, was the spokesman, handing the Marquess the traditional silver trowel, voicing appreciation for the risks and the expense involved, and reminding his audience that a few years previously no fewer than 11 ships had been wrecked with loss of life less than a mile away from where they were standing: ‘It will become a harbour of refuge, into which vessels may flee for safety in times of difficulty and danger.’
Charles rose magnificently to the occasion with a remarkable speech, and was given an equally remarkable reception, both of which were recorded by the Durham Advertiser. He begins by expressing the emotions and commitment that he feels at the fulfilling moment:
Gentlemen and friends, it would indeed be an effort of the greatest difficulty for me to convey to you, in any adequate language, the gratitude I experience for the kind and flattering manner in which you have been pleased to receive me; and in expressing my heartfelt and cordial thanks to this immense concourse of wealthy and respectable persons who I see around me, for the warm interest which has been shown in the important proceedings of the day, I am fully sensible of the inability of language to do justice to the feelings of my heart. (Cheers) It has fallen to my lot, during the period of an eventful life, to be frequently placed in critical situations; but I never felt under the influence of more overpowering, I may say of more aweful feeling, than at the present moment, when I contemplate the warmth of your kindness and support, coupled with the magnitude of this undertaking in the hands of an individual. Believe me, my friends, the impression is indelible and it will descend with me to the grave. (Immense cheering)
He continued:
My great object – and it is an object of which any man may be proud, and which will be a consolation to me, as a resident of this county, to the last moment of my existence – that I have attempted, and mean to persevere in a bold effort, to add greater facilities to the export of the staple commodity of this part of England; and if we ourselves should not reap all the benefit which we have a right to hope and lay a fair claim to, still our children, and our children’s children, may look back to this day as an important epoch in the annals of the county and in the records of their prospects; and while they may receive the full benefit of our honest endeavours, we may repose under the best of all reflections – we have done our duty by them.
He concluded by commending his son Harry to them:
To this boy (pointing to Lord Seaham) who will, I hope, hereafter be as dear to your hearts as his grandfather was before him, and on whom the present moment must make a long and lasting impression … I shall ever instil into his mind the debt of gratitude which you have imposed upon me, and which he must repay to your children.1
Loud applause and a 34-gun salute marked the end of his speech, and there is no doubt about Charles’s commitment and sense of public service. He strongly identified with County Durham and the interests of its people, something which emerges clearly from this occasion as well as the warm reception which he enjoyed. He could well have been addressing his soldiers, as he did so long ago. This, allied with his eloquence, acumen and drive, must explain his popularity. Certainly his children witnessed this public display of commitment by their father. It would be demonstrated to them that public responsibility was a natural consequence of wealth and they would be left in no doubt as to their father’s sentiments on the subject. Later in her life, when she was Duchess of Marlborough, this moment would certainly be one of Frances’ proudest memories of her father. Where else could she have found the courage, the acumen and the drive 50 years later to come to the aid of the Irish in the way she did?
Almost immediately the harbour was an asset: in the first three months of its opening 209 vessels with a registered tonnage of 31,000 had made use of the port’s facilities. A new town, Seaham Harbour, grew up. In 1842 Frances Anne wrote that 14 years previously there was not a ‘house or a path on these rugged cliffs’, and that the project to create a port was treated as visionary and absurd. Lord Londonderry’s risk, however, had been justified and as the years passed and the town and harbour had grown it had been crowned with success.
In 1831 an epidemic of cholera was at its worst in Sunderland, eventually carrying off a national total of 50,000 victims. This served to whet Charles’s appetite for a fight. He wrote from Wynyard with his usual spirit:
The cholera at Sunderland has added much to my private anxieties, as well as the state of public events, which has made my thoughts most gloomy on general politics. Although I am persuaded the accounts have been largely exaggerated, still that an unusual epidemic reigns there cannot be denied, and with wife, children and servants, who are all of the weaker and timid nature, it is not easy to eschew all rumours, apprehensions and daily histories that arise. Still, I felt that, had I abdicated and given way to the alarm, the mischief that it would have occasioned in this county would have been incalculable. It would have been the tocsin for a general emigration. Neither Lord Cleveland, Durham, Ravensworth, nor any person of note, is now resident here, but my family and myself, and, with the large number of persons in my employ, my fears would have given general dismay. Whatever I may, therefore, individually feel, and however I may be ill at ease in my own mind for those I love and cherish far more than myself, and whose early years may make their lives valuable while mine has run more than half its course, I have determined to put the best face I could upon the gener
al position, and place my faith in Providence more than in any of the doctors and their reports … By going over to Seaham and Sunderland two or three times a week I show no outward apprehension, while I trust my children are as safe here as they well can be.2
This is another display of Londonderry’s values, his clear-minded attitude about where his duty lay, and his determination to fulfil it.
Emotions also ran high in a different direction. In 1836 the Duke of Wellington had come under considerable fire in the House of Commons when he offered Charles the Ambassador’s post in St Petersburg; despite the considerable respect for Charles’s reputation as a soldier and diplomat, his wealth nevertheless continued to attract considerable hostility. He courteously declined, but after the birth of their third son, Ernest McDonnell, in 1836 he and Frances Anne arranged a private visit to Russia. From Stockholm, Tsar Nicholas’ own private yacht, the Ischora, took them directly to St Petersburg, and Frances Anne happily recorded in her letters that she did not know she could be so happy at sea.
The visit to Russia was of particular significance to Frances Anne and a chance to see the places about which her friend Tsar Alexander I had spoken more than ten years earlier, when she saw so much of him in Vienna and Verona. Edith, 7th Lady Londonderry, wrote that the gossip had not evaporated. In 1825, when the Tsar was reported as having died of a fever at Tagenrog, there sprang up a rumour that the body brought back to St Petersburg for burial was that of another man, leaving Alexander to disappear secretly to Siberia and live out his life in a monastery there. Travellers who visited the monastery at Tomsk brought back tales of a monk there who bore a remarkable resemblance to him. Furthermore, in 1921, when the Bolsheviks opened up all the imperial tombs in the old Russian capital, that of Alexander was found to be empty. It has been suggested that Alexander left Tagenrog for a secret destination in an English yacht registered at Lloyds in the name of Charles Stewart, and that the Londonderrys facilitated his disappearance.
Churchill's Grandmama Page 5
